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"Good-bye."
The door closed solidly behind him, like the door of a cell. Shay felt imprisoned by despair—total, black, and absolute.
Chapter Ten
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Snow continued to fall for hours after Ian left. Shay was forced to stay inside. When the heavy snow didn't stop, and it looked like driving would become difficult, she sent Mrs. Higgins home for the duration of the storm. Shay didn't want to worry about the older woman driving to and from the parsonage in dangerous weather.
Shay roamed the cheerless, empty rooms, listening unconsciously for the sound of Ian's voice, the stamp of his boots, his low husky laughter, his whispered words of love. Those were the dearest to recall, but they brought waves of loneliness.
"I love for you to touch me there," she had said the last time they'd made love.
"Here?"
There had followed a long pause as their rasping breath filled the still room. "Yes."
"I love touching you. Soft, womanly."
His gifted fingers, which contained all the secrets of loving, prepared the way for a sweet mouth and a nimble tongue. Love flowed through her body like a fine wine, rich and pure, effervescent and intoxicating.
Wrapping her arms around herself now, Shay felt an emptiness yawning wide inside her as she remembered all the times they had made love. Sometimes they had been playful and swift, coming to a lusty completion quickly. Other times they had been slow and languid, drawing out each other's passion for hours until they allowed themselves the pleasure of explosive culmination. But always it had been an exchange, not only of their bodies, but of their spirits as well. Shay missed that most of all.
The basketball tournament dragged on for days. Shay listened to it on the radio, feeling closer to Ian that way. But as Brookside continued to win, Ian remained absent, and a new suspic
ion began to haunt her. For several days now she had been feeling vague changes in her body. Her period was over a week late—and as a rule she was as regular as clockwork. Alone in the empty house without Ian to share her thoughts, she grew increasingly restless. Finally she decided to brave the still snow-covered streets. She drove to a nearby pharmacy and bought a pregnancy testing kit, which she knew to be fairly reliable.
When she returned home, she sat for hours, staring contemplatively into the fire, her hands folded across her stomach, thinking about much more than just the results of the test she was waiting for.
It came to her quietly then that she knew what Ian's sermon had been about that first morning she'd heard him speak. She knew, too, what she must do.
When they had married, she'd known she loved him, but not until recently had she realized the magnitude of her love and what it required of her. She would give up her modeling, at least the nude modeling. She would give it up freely, not because Ian had demanded it of her, but because she loved him and couldn't live with anything that made him unhappy. At one time such self-denial would have been impossible for her. She would have thought someone expected it of her, and she would have resented Ian for not accepting her as she was. Now her decision didn't feel like self-denial at all. And when she went upstairs to the bathroom and saw that the test results were positive—she was pregnant!—she experienced a fulfillment and peace she'd never known in her life. Oh, if only Ian would hurry home!
Suddenly she was injected with renewed energy. Since her job at the small boutique hadn't started and the weather prohibited everything else, she raided the pantry and spent the afternoon preparing casseroles and baked goods that she could freeze for later. She sang as she worked and laughed aloud when she realized that she was humming the tune Ian had been singing in the shower that first day. How long ago that seemed now. She wasn't the same shallow, flighty girl she'd been then. A woman had emerged in her place, a woman who knew what it meant to be loved. She only wished Ian were here so she could share her new understanding with him.
When the phone rang, she all but lunged for it, hoping, praying it would be Ian so she could tell him all that she had discovered in his absence.
"Mrs. Douglas, this is the fire chief. Is your husband there?"
"I'm sorry, he's out of town. Can I help you?" The man's shouting voice told her he was probably calling from a mobile telephone—which indicated an emergency situation.
"We've got a hell of a fire at the Shady Oaks apartment complex." He didn't seem to notice his slip of the tongue and neither did Shay. "The people who don't require hospitalization need someplace warm to go. Could we use the church until their friends or families can be notified to pick them up?"
"You can use it for as long as anyone needs it. Bring them there immediately. To the basement. I'll meet you to make sure the furnace is on."
"Some of them are in pretty bad shape, Mrs. Douglas. I hate to dump this on you, but—"
"I'll see that they're taken care of. Were there any … casualties?"
"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Douglas."
She gripped the receiver and forced down the bile that flooded the back of her throat. "I'm on my way."
She made three calls, delegating responsibility for blankets, food, and first aid, which was to be provided as soon as possible. Then she called Mr. Griffin at his hardware store and told him to go to the church immediately to see that the furnace was started and to do anything else he saw necessary to aid those who would be sheltered there. Then she called the hotel where she knew Ian was staying. Days ago, when she thought she might die of loneliness, Shay had asked the coach's wife where to reach him. She'd asked for the information, but because she was too proud, she hadn't been able to bring herself to call him.
Now when she did, she learned that he wasn't in his room. She left an urgent message. Then, taking up what she thought she might need for an indefinite vigil, she banked the fire in the fireplace, locked the house, and left for the church.
The following hours were a nightmare. Exhausted firemen and policemen led frightened, grief-stricken, disoriented people into the basement. Children cried for parents from whom they'd been separated. Frantic mothers called desperately for children they couldn't find. Old people wandered around dazed, lost, and weeping.
